


B movies

by Amaru_Katari



Series: Griffindor tie(s) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 15:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13707582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaru_Katari/pseuds/Amaru_Katari
Summary: Underage magic can take many forms and serve multiple purposesOr: in which the Weasleys never went for Harry in the summer before second year.





	B movies

“Oh… Hi Mrs. Martin” the boy, she couldn’t remember his name, seemed surprised she had even opened the door “May I ask you a favor?”

Susanne Martin pursed her lips, unconvinced. The boy was -after all- the little demon that lived with the Dursleys. In her own opinion, never voiced around the other housewives in the neighborhood, that little pig of Petunia’s was worse than anything she had seen the little green-eyed kid do. The child was polite to a fault and pretty harmless, and that couldn’t be said about that circus freak the Dursleys had sired. But she didn’t live with him, she might as well be wrong.

“Ok” she said, quickly pushing with her foot her cat back inside the house (the animal had started yowling once the bell had rang), and closing the door behind her “What do you need?”

“It’s not much” said the boy, wringing his hands. It was obvious he hadn’t though someone would help him, the poor thing “It’s just… my aunt forgot to open the door to Dudley’s second room” ‘Second room’? Really? “but it has been two weeks, _I guess_ , and they didn’t tell me when they were coming back, and…  well I don’t want it to reek for when aunt Petunia comes back”

“What?” She couldn’t help but purse her lips. The Dursleys had left two days ago, after whatever disaster the little child in front of her had provoked, but she _had though_ they had left the boy with someone, like the cat lady from Wisteria Lane, or even Vernon’s doppelgänger. Even when she had seen him in her doorstep, she had _assumed_ that the Dursleys were back, not that they had left their nephew alone, with nobody to care for him.

“I mean… I know you must be busy” oh, so the kid assumed it was _him_ she was angry with “but I understand if you can’t do it, I can ask somewhere else”

“Oh no, dear” little demon or not, this was a child that had been left alone by his relatives, and who had not been seen since the whatever-had-happened with Petunias’ illustrious dinner with her husband’s associates. Furthermore, entering the other woman’s house would give her ammunition for gossip with the other girls in their shared Poker Club, _and_ , if her gut was right (and it ever was, she had three children, after all) there was something wrong with the little boy in front of her. “I can help”

“Thank you” The boy’s eyes were big as saucers with awe and gratitude, as if she was the most incredible and generous person he had seen. She preened a little, her children hadn’t directed those kinds of gazes since they were very little, before they became more invested in their friends and parties than in their mother. Susanne certainly missed that, even if she hadn’t been aware of it.

The kid directed her to the house, babbling about how ‘it’ would get bad really quickly with the summer heat, and that he was really, ‘ _reaaaaally’_ glad she agreed to help him with that, because if left alone ‘it’ would stain the floor and make the room (the house, even) smell really bad, almost as bad as Dudley’s laundry.

She was thinking he was an adorable and funny little man (how old he was, by the way? He looked no older than ten) by the time they got to the first floor and stood at the door of what she assumed was ‘Dudley’s second room’.

The door was full of bolts and her stomach sinked a little, like it used to do when Edmund made her watch a horror movie and the protagonist entered the room where the bad guy was.

“Here we are” sighed the boy “the keys are there” he said, signaling a ring of keys hanging from a nail “but I can’t take them” and here he fidgeted again, and seemed to think very carefully what to say next “I mean… Uncle Vernon would get very mad if I do, and I though that if _someone_ else did it he wouldn’t get mad with _me_ ”

‘ _He is lying’_ the voice in her head sounded exactly like her husband did when he was chiding her for being too lenient with their own children ‘ _now_ you _will be the dumb blonde to get killed in this movie’_

Her hand had moved towards the keys without her noticing whilst she looked into earnest, pleading green eyes.

She took them decisively, calling herself all kind of names for her own cowardice, and started to open all the bolts that framed the door. They were more than enough so that she spent more than twenty minutes figuring which key belonged to which padlock, and was starting to worry that Petunia would find her fiddling around in her house.

“Ma’am?” the kid called from behind her when she _finally_ unlocked the last latch, and she turned around, still in a crouch, hand in the doorknob to level a glare at him. His voice didn’t sound the same, less innocent, somehow, and if he even dared to _imply_ that this was a joke… “I’m sorry for making you do this” _‘told ya’_ crooned Edmund’s voice “but it seemed that it would be sad if nobody noticed before the Dursley’s came back”

She stood in her full meter and a half, fully intending to make the kid cower in fear, when she noticed he _wasn’t_ there.

He had disappeared, and she felt every bit the protagonist of some B movie.

Turning around, she found the door ajar, with the soft light of the summer evening filtering through the opening.

There were a few cans of chicken noodle soup littering the floor, some of them still half full, bars in the window, and a cage with a big white bird in its floor, but what tore a scream from her throat was the small human figure by the window sill.

‘ _Well’_ Edmund’s voice sounded amused over her screams _‘at least you aren’t the dead one in this tale, don’t you think?’_

**Author's Note:**

> One of my uncles commited suicide two weeks ago. It was... a terrible affair, and so, so very difficult. Many fingers were pointed, and I think my family has finally broken apart.
> 
> You can say this is my way to cope. Not the best one, I'm sure.
> 
> On the other hand, in this story, Harry left a note in the form of a wisp of unconcious magic that was supposed to deliver the message to whatever neighbor opened their door. Very much like a Patroni.
> 
> In the book, the Dursleys left Harry in his room for three days and feeded him with canned soup before the Weasleys rescued him. In this story, however, Ron and the twins were discovered and grounded for trying to steal their father's car, and never went to save Harry. Harry, feeded only with canned soup (not a very nutritious thing) and not in a very good health to begin with (he was raised by the Dursleys, after all), quickly got malnourished.
> 
> One of the many symptoms of undernourishment is a reduced congnitive status and depression. When Hedwig died (because he feeded her with the vegetables of his soup, remember? and canned soup is not a good food for a child, never mind a bird of prey), he though that his last link to the Magical world had also died and that maybe everything was just a wonderful dream, and that this, living under the Dursley's rule was the only reality he would ever know. 
> 
> This may or may not be continued. It mostly depends on how my mood is :(
> 
> EDIT: I noticed a little thing that needed to be changed. I'm still not convinced that it was well done. Also, my native language is not English, so I would thank you if you point any typos you notice.


End file.
